Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Contrary to the popular masses, and what his constantly cold skin temperature implies, summer is by far Theo’s least favorite season. He glances up at the stupidly clear sky and sun beating down on them all for a scarce two seconds before he has to blink and look away with a sharp hiss. There are a lot of reasons for it, more than he cares to compile into a list on any given day. However, as he leans up against a tree, hands empty and an itch under his skin he can’t shake off, simply watching chaos unfold, he’s run out of better things to spend his time on. 

There’s the predictable various early birds of the McCall pack such as Melissa and Mason, arriving hours before they should so they can go about helping set up for this little get together, and some he expected to be late if they showed up at all. Namely, Argent and Parrish, who he knows for a fact are often too busy to attend this sort of thing. He only spares a few seconds to be surprised though since, according to Alec, who is only somewhat unreliable in measures of embellishing shit like this, everyone is coming to this.

Part of his nape prickles, the hair rising by millimeters as a set of blue eyes flashes against his eyelids between one blink and the next. Theo has to slowly and consciously roll his shoulders to settle the low grumbling animals locked tight in his chest back down. The kid has no idea what he’s talking about. Everyone doesn't mean everyone . Though, it is summer, so it’s possible…

Theo throws himself off his tree, starting towards the Martin lake house with a low growl thrumming through his chest. His steps are fast, covering ground but composed. Yes, he’s speeding away from the stupid thoughts, but he’s not stupid. Outright running would draw attention, no matter how much he wants to just tear away from the trees. He keeps one foot on the ground at all times and walks towards the house as casually and quickly as he can. Again, there are many reasons he doesn’t like summer. Many. He shakes his head, the motions rough and a hair below violent, needing to be rid of the lingering bitter taste of hope. It isn’t about to do him any more favors tonight than it has the last few years. 

If he wasn’t impossibly sure that one of the already present pack members, namely any of his stupid roommates, would chase after him with a vengeance or that he would simply keel over from heat exhaustion within ten minutes, he would slip out of his human skin and go for a run. But, unfortunately, heat like this is impossible to deal with past a certain point, and his full shifted, heavy black coat isn’t going to help him with this. It’s a lesson he learned the hard way and he cringes as he recalls the putrid stink of the abandoned house he had holed up in while waiting for the Doctors to make their appearance. 

Technically, he learned two things that day. One: it didn’t matter what country or state they were in, sewers and abandoned places smelled the worst after baking in regular heat courtesy of the giant gas ball. And two: that while sometimes the shift can be a blessing, in hotter climates it is anything but. 

Theo forces himself to take a slow breath in through his nose, letting the scents from all around him drag over his tongue. Parsing through them takes him a second with so many different smells overlapping. People have been milling around all afternoon, crisscrossing their scent trails and the natural ones from the woods surrounding the lake, which makes it all the harder to pick everything apart. But that’s why this sort of thing works. 

He lets his focus narrow down to that singular sense, shutting his eyes with his next breath. 

Bits of lavender with a heavy note of decay is Lydia, dancing around the back yard with her usual confidence, telling everyone where to put what and how close to the schedule they’re managing to stay. The half-chemical and medicinal scent that twines its way around hers is undoubtedly Stiles. At least he’s taken his meds, based on his scent, so that should help part of the gathering go smoothly. He catches whiffs of Melissa’s cinnamon scent, Argent’s gun oil and aconite, and the mix of Brett, Alec, and Lori that are all indistinguishable from one another at a distance without looking up.

He opens his eyes and he’s far more grounded than he was a few minutes ago. Usually, he tucks himself away on warmer days like these and avoids interacting with people because he knows he’s a sullen mess. Much to his chagrin, someone has learned that asking Alec to drag him to things makes it exponentially harder to say no. 

All the older pack are back is the opener the kid went with when he decided to strongarm Theo into coming. He had rolled his eyes and scoffed, though admittedly his ears were perked. It isn’t often the whole pack, or most of it, gathers anymore. Everyone is busy, running on different schedules and in different parts of the country, or world in some cases. Theo smiles a little to himself as he taps his phone that’s tucked in his pocket, briefly wondering how Derek’s latest trip down to Brazil is going. 

Lydia’s voice pulls his eyes and focus up towards the house, where the redhead is telling the two Alphas that Theo lives with — Brett and Alec — where to put the tables. Before they’ve reached the designated spot, she’s already onto the next task, leaving them to it. Undoubtedly, it’s under the presumption that they would do it how she said without any further issues. Theo can’t help but chuckle at himself a little. There is a long, long list of people he would have handed that specific task off to before that pair in specific, but, hey, he’s not about to tell the party queen of Beacon Hills how to run or set up her summer reunion party. 

There’s no chance in hell those two have the combined brain power to do it just right, even if they had understood the instructions. Based on their faces as he gets close to the designated yard behind the lake house, neither Alec nor Brett know entirely where they’re supposed to be putting any of the tables they’re holding. It’s a little comical really, and he can’t help but smile. There’s a lighthearted I told you so brewing under his breath, having decidedly warned Alec about the dangers of showing up early to a Martin party, but he holds it in.

Barely.

The sound of laughter radiates out into the air, loud enough to briefly drown out the crackling fire not ten feet away. Theo’s own mixes in with the cacophonous mess, but somehow it’s not horrible. 

He casts quick, fleeting glances side to side, double checking his reality. No matter how many times he does it, Scott, Stiles, and Lydia are still there, standing within arms reach. He can’t rightly remember the last time all three were in town at the same time and looked this relaxed. Granted, it’s not like his barely tangential [trying to make it sound like the tangential nature of his tie to the pack is what’s barely there anymore, not that he’s barely attached to them] link with them gives him reserved front row seats at social events, so maybe it happens more than he thinks. But that’s not likely. 

A hair of a smile pulls across his face again as he can’t help but look over at the two men who he knew once upon a few lifetimes ago. They didn’t have to accept him into their little circle, now or back after the war, and yet here he is sitting with people he tried to kill and is exchanging lighthearted jokes and barbs in equal measure. 

It's good food, good company, and as much as he normally hates social gatherings like this because of the sheer number of people, he doesn't feel as out of place.

After a while, he takes the opportunity to excuse himself under the guise of going to get something to drink. Stiles gives him a look, elbows him in the ribs for good measure, and mutters something about not causing trouble that Theo just rolls his eyes at. 

He takes a step back and breathes, lets the air linger over his tongue, tasting as well as smelling everything. Again, he smiles, slowing his steps to take it all in. The sounds are amazing, the fire’s crackle melding with the rise and fall of voices and the laughter. Fuck, the way it rolls through from one end of the yard to another, nothing but happiness and levity and family written into every note of it. 

As Theo looks around, he lingers on each person. 

First he glances over those he just left. Lydia is smiling big and wide, though there’s definite bags under her eyes that speak volumes as to why she’s finally taking a break from research to come back. Predictably glued to her side is Stiles, who is supposedly done with Quantico and has decided to follow more of Argent’s path. To be fair, he’s only half surprised the guy called it quits. Rules and regulations aren’t the resident human’s style. Meanwhile, Scott is almost done with vet school and gearing up to take over Deaton’s clinic when he comes home in a couple years.

Everything is falling into place, the puzzle pieces lining up perfectly perfect, as life has a tendency to do for the golden hearted idiots he calls friends.

Even the younger pack members are doing well. His focus across the yard, settling on the small group meandering about on the far side of the fire, closer to the woods. Alec has been doing a fairly good job at integrating with the older puppies, but that was to be expected. The kid’s sociable, he knows how to function with other people. Though, that’s probably at least a little because he’s a damn Alpha. They never seem to struggle with fitting in the way he’s struggled.

Theo shakes his head, moving from the younger, searching for a head of hair that really should not be hard to find. There are quite literally only two wolves of the entire twenty plus pack that are over six-foot-two, and yet, Brett is the hardest fucker to find in crowds. The crowd he ought to draw as a both a genetic Alpha and hierarchical one should be enough in and of itself. 

Judging by the way Brett smirks at him when he does finally catch the alpha’s red eyes flaring at him from all the way across the yard, the fucker knows he’s been looking for him. Theo lifts his lip for a second, warning the red off. He gets a little further half smirk before Brett goes back to watching the younger wolves from his spot next to Scott, a careful look in his eyes that could only be seen on a big brother watching out for a younger sibling. 

It’s not dissimilar to how Lori describes the way Theo himself looks at them all. He drops his eyes down to his feet, scuffing at the ground with the toe of his shoe, mulling the taste of that thought over in his mouth. It’s a little more true than he wants to admit. Every time Mason is in town, he’s apprenticing under Deaton, taking over for him and learning everything he could from the Druid. Thankfully, he hadn't picked up the cryptic language the veterinarian tended to use. Corey helps him pretty frequently in between classes, and even Hayden was back in town visiting everyone for the week.

He looks over to where the adults are standing, most of them scattered around. Some had drinks in hand, most only had a plate, and all of them are totally relaxed. Melissa, Chris, and Noah are lingering around a fire that Parrish is managing, the task inevitably falling onto the resident hellhound’s shoulders. Normally, Derek would be in attendance, most likely skulking around silently along the edges like Theo is and brooding, but he is currently busy in South America, as he has been the last three years. He’d already sent his regards to the pack and had let Theo know how appreciative he was that he was still looking after the auto shop for him, on top of the building.

For a brief moment, a thought crossed Theo’s mind and he couldn't help but wince. He’d come so close to shredding this entire family apart and had thoroughly decimated it, even just for a time. He couldn't help but wonder how many other packs he’d destroyed that were never able to rebuild or recover like this one had.

The slow crunch of gravel and branches has Theo tipping his head and turning slightly in his chair. He recognizes the low rumble of the engine and careful driving all too well, and smiles to himself. Part of him had wondered where Jenna and David were. Gatherings like this aren’t something they usually miss. If something in his chest twinges a little as he thinks of their son, and the distinct lack of him that isn’t any sort of new nowadays, well, that’s his business and his business alone. 

Liam made it clear where they stand. 

A sudden bloom of copper across his tongue says he bit a little too harshly at the inner corner of his cheek. Theo shakes his head, trying to simultaneously shake out his shoulders, hoping it’ll let him loosen up and bury the too sharp thoughts. This isn’t a night to be stuck in what was. He draws a slow breath in deep, expanding his whole ribcage and torso with it, and starts counting backwards from fifty. 

Every stretch and give of muscle pushes back at the bits of memories he hasn’t touched in years, keeping them from poking any further into the now. He hasn’t spent years building a wall between present and past for it to crumble at the slightest push. It’s there for a reason. 

Nevertheless, something in his chest keeps winching tighter, which translates to a stiff spine and locked jaw. Again, he tries to shake it off, focusing this time on the sounds of happy people milling around him, familiar scents and heartbeats he’s come to know more or less inside and out. He might not have wanted it at first, and still doesn’t most days, but he’s got family here, people he cares about, who were able to wait while he learned how. 

That more than anything so far makes him flinch hard . Supposedly, time heals all wounds, but he’s been enough of an exception to so many rules he is starting to wonder if that applies here too.

Three sets of feet tumble out of the car, which sends Theo’s brows climbing into his hairline. His focus jumps around the expanse of yard, noting who has and hasn’t noticed the arrivals. Predictably, he’s the first, and much to his chagrin it’s not till the front door opens that anyone else looks up. Lectures about minding their surroundings do nothing apparently. He really shouldn’t be surprised about it anymore. Seven years around these idiots leaves little that is a true surprise and much that makes his teeth grind against each other as the back of his neck bristles.

That’s all pushed aside though as Jenna and David and the as of yet unknown third, whose presence has Theo holding his fucking breath like a god damned child, make their way through the house. If he was smart, he would be listening to the chatter he can half-heartedly hear bouncing around the walls, but he doesn’t. It’s all he can do to keep himself in place and his heart from lurching into an off-kilter rhythm at the moment. Stretching his senses would be one thing too many. 

Now he knows he’s not the only one that notices, because the fire crackling loudly in his ears is the only thing breaking up the new, too loud silence. But even that falls by the wayside when the parents step aside and he’s left staring dead on at the bastard Alpha he hasn’t seen in three years. 

Theo’s breath catches in his throat, though he’s damn sure no one notices among the uproarious cacophony that wells up in an instant. A smile sits on the face that he both recognizes and doesn’t is bright, glowing orange under a mix of  the back porch’s lights and fire that flicks shadows to and fro, caressing Liam’s cheek. Gone are the lingering babyish elements that had clung stubbornly to the wolf’s face, replaced by angles and a sharpness that is reminiscent of the statues Liam went to Greece to study. Everyone swarms towards him, arms outstretched, welcoming him home. 

Everyone but Theo, who is stuck like a dart in the lawn, rooted there for fear that if he tries to move away his legs will betray him. 

Between the hugs and claps on the back, his stomach rolls. They’re all so enthusiastic, their energy palpable even with the tens of feet separating the writhing mess of pack and Theo. Realistically, it makes sense and he can’t find it in him to fault any of them. No one has seen him in person since the guy left for his semester abroad in Greece. Though, if enthusiasm was earned by time between meetings, he would wager that he was allowed to be the most excited of them all. The only hide or hair that he’s seen of the Adonis-like blond haired, blue eyed bastard were the infrequent photos he sends as proof of life that Mason gets and deigns to show him. Not that he asks for it either. 

He doesn’t give a shit about Liam Dunbar anymore. Not a single shit. 

Slowly, the crowd disperses. 

Adults return to their quiet conversations, leaving the younger pack to their own devices. Predictably, Mason is hanging off of his friend’s neck, Corey close at his side, laughing with more of his body than usual which has Theo cracking a smile. They’re not the best of friends or pack in the same way as he had once tried to force them to be, but he cares enough about the other chimera that seeing him happy brings a modicum of joy. It’s not quite the same with Hayden, who is admirably hiding how out of place she feels. They don’t see each other or talk, ever. 

His head hangs, dropping to tuck his chin into his chest protectively. There’s a lot of shit he wishes he could take back, among it: how he treated her. Theo fights the wince that wants to scrunch up his face, forcing the neutral mask to stay in place while something deep in his guts and bones twists around. How he treated all of them was deplorable and makes his stomach churn now, but the way he used her is a special brand of fucked up. Asking her to spy on Liam was one thing. Using her death was another. 

Theo retreats back a step, and then another and another still until the increasing heat at his back forces him to turn. His coyote bristles at leaving their back exposed. It’s a vestigial instinct, one he easily pushes aside solely because he knows somewhere among the chaos are three people he trusts implicitly. Well, two, because he realizes belatedly that Alec is sitting on the other side of the fire pit. A relaxed breath peters out as he shifts slowly over to the youngest of the wolves, sitting beside him, less than a foot of space between them. 

It’s a wordless sort of language they’ve built up over the last year or so. Touch has never been a kind thing in his experience, but he’s somehow surrounded himself by wolves that apparently all inherited the clingy, tactile gene. By all accounts, he’s supposed to be the one that’s genetically predisposed to that sort of thing. But no, it’s the alpha baby duckling that had physical touch as his god damned love language, and Theo, well, he’s useless against Alec’s oddly effective brand of puppy-dog eyes. 

It makes sense that Alec, who doesn’t particularly know Liam all that well, wouldn’t be strictly glued to his side or all that enthralled with the guy’s return. He doesn't know whether to be comforted by that or grumpy, so he settles back and reverts into his go-to prickly and grumpy demeanor that he regularly wears like armor. Everything under his skin is just as uncomfortable, as if there’s sharp, needle-like splinters stabbing into him and digging deeper and deeper with every breath he takes.

“What’s got you all cranky? He an ex or something?” 

“Or something,” Theo huffs, crossing his arms tight across his chest, as if that will be any help at all against the squirming discomfortable things trying to burrow into him.

“You gonna elaborate on that at all or…?” 

“Drop it, Alec,” he snaps, flashing his fangs at the younger supernatural.

He holds his breath in anticipation, his jaw still clenched, and readies himself for Alec to push it, to keep pestering him and digging like an over-focused dog with a bone that it can't wait to unbury. Thankfully, surprisingly, the anticipated prodding doesn't happen. To his credit, the kid does in fact listen for once in his life and drops the subject, setting Theo’s raised hackles.

The cab’s silent aside from Theo’s thumbs tapping an inconsistent rhythm on the wheel. He’s slumped back into the seat, trying to meld with the leather for all the good that will do him. There’s no hiding when people are quite literally only feet away, standing close enough to the nose of his truck that they’d only have to tip a few inches to the side in order to lean on it. 

In fact, he catches a couple of Alec’s half concerned glances, answering with a patented glare that he hopes is as effective as it used to be. He might be keeping his claws blood free lately, but there’s other ways he can make his roommate’s life miserable. Judging by the way brown eyes go a little wider every time and Alec insistently tugs Brett and Lori both towards the truck, he knows. 

It’s small mercies like that which let Theo keep his grumpy ass planted in the truck. Goodbyes have never been and never will be his thing. Not when they’re little and more like see you laters, and definitely not when they’re anything more than that. He winces, shrinking even further back into the seat and shadows while his eyes dart to a familiar mop of hair. 

Well, mostly familiar. The dark of night can’t hide how brown tint in the blond strands is far lighter now, which he guesses has more to do with the Grecian sun than anything else. It’s long enough again that there’s a curl and sway to it all too, similar but more than when they were in high school.

He stares at Liam, unfortunately unable to pull his eyes away quite yet, before his attention is grabbed by the sound of Alec and Brett loading into his truck. They're saying goodbyes and several last ‘good to see you’s’ that he doesn't understand for the life of him. They're all pleasantries that aren't really all that pleasant, as far as he’s concerned.

He glances up at the rear view mirror as he pulls the gearshift down a notch, switching from reverse to drive, and catches sight of the newcomer once more. He stalls for a second, his hand hovering over the gearshift and his foot stuck on the brake pedal. The lights on the back of his truck are casting a bright red glow across Liam’s face and Theo immediately turns away as subtly as he can.

This summer was going to be a long one, and the prospect is less than exciting. It fills Theo with an emotion similar to dread, and he can't help but feel that this was the summer that everything was going to change.

Chapter Text

The click clack of keys on the old keyboard attached to the even older computer that held all of the information belonging to the Hale Auto Shop echoed throughout the barren room. It’s the only noise aside from him, which is exactly how it’s been for the last four hours at least . He can’t help but sigh and hang his head limply off his neck. Hell, Theo’s own breathing and pulse are starting to eat at his nerves. Realistically this just means that Theo’s been chugging away at the data entry side of his job too much — all morning — and needs a break. 

His teeth grind against one another as he tries to work his jaw loose again. He doesn’t want to, though. It’s just inputting numbers and doing administration tasks while working at the front desk. He shouldn’t need a break. These last three years have been the break that he’s still somehow making stretch out a little longer. Never once in his life before this had he been this sedentary. Maybe back before the men in masks started haunting his dreams and the world turned upside on him at eight years old, but part of him says even back then things weren’t simple or sedentary. He’s used to doing things, moving from place to place, gathering information, being useful . 

There’s a hiss in his ears that he takes far too long to realize is his own as he recoils from the dark, staticy clicks echoing around him. Eyes firmly planted closed, he stills, weight pressed into the counter. It’s just a memory, he tells himself, but that doesn’t stop the hair on the back of his neck from lifting or the pebbling skin along his arms. It’s only a memory, and those can’t hurt him anymore.

 Not for the first time, he wishes someone would come in, or that the spreadsheet he’s staring at was any more interesting than it was. Being the one, more or less, in charge of this place the last few years, nothing’s new or exciting anymore. He’s glad for the job, but it’s just… boring, as far as he’s concerned. So unbelievably boring, but also useful, he repeatedly tells himself. His presence allows the pack to have a wider net via Derek working with Cora’s pack down in South America and solidifies the overall international network Scott’s ragtag pack has grown into over the years. 

This might not be the constant motion that was his norm for years, but it’s no less important, and that’s what he has to focus on. Pack means being part of the machine without being the one doing the thing in the limelight. He should be happy that he’s not being forced into a more active form of participation. Sidelines and shadows have been his home for as long as he can comfortably say he remembers, and he doesn’t want to leave them, not really. 

Thankfully, his thoughts are all halted when the door opens with a little chime. Before the new person has taken even a step inside, however, Theo is already rolling his eyes, internally groaning sans lifting his head to see who it is. He doesn’t need to, more than recognizing the heartbeat and scent that just walked in since he lives with it half the time. 

“What do you want, squirt?” he asks before Alec can say anything or even fully cross the store’s front.

He loves the kid. He really does, but that little imp popping into the shop never brings good news as far as his ability to say no. There’s a little affronted huff, which he knew was coming, and the rustle of something as if Alec is faux clutching at pearls he doesn’t have.

“I can’t just pop in and see you? Is there like a new rule Derek put into place about family visiting–”

“You’re as subtle as a fucking neon armadillo dancing ballet,” he answers flatly, still not lifting his head from the nice cold surface of the counter. 

Theo doesn’t chuckle as the hyper balloon that is his pseudo-little brother audibly deflates on the other side of the counter. He doesn’t. Nope. Not even a little. The noise he lets out is just a little huff, nothing more. And to his credit, he also hides it in his hand while staring at his computer a little longer, pretending he’s making the noise at something on the screen. 

What he sees when he looks up almost has Theo kicking himself. Big brown eyes are just staring at him, all too similar to a kicked puppy that’s been scolded. It makes his guts squirm and he groans because that feeling means the little jerk is halfway to getting what he wants already. 

“No,” he says without waiting a beat, preemptively trying to cut off any request before it gets past the brain-mouth barrier. 

“I haven’t even asked for anything!” 

“But you’re planning on asking, and if you’re pulling out that face, then it’s nothing I want part in.” 

“What face?” Alec asks. Theo just blinks at him, a thoroughly unimpressed look on his face, and Alec finally ends up cowing and rubbing at his neck. “Alright, fine, yeah, I know what face I made. But, come on, please just hear me out?”

Theo groans, letting a grumpy look take over his face, even exaggerating the lines of it a little while he hangs his head. It’s a little manipulative, but no one is ever going to call him a saint, so he figures he might as well use the tools he’s got. As he leans on the counter, one of his hands gesturing for Alec to continue, he cocks his head, both indicating he’s listening and letting his face say the warning that’s on the tip of his tongue.

“We need a designated driver and chaperone for the bonfire.” 

“The bonfire…” His eyes narrow by a hair of a degree, further deepening the line of his frown, though it’s with confusion this time rather than thinly veiled ire. “Which Melissa said was absolutely not allowed to happen?” 

“Yeah, that one, except she said she’d be okay with it if there were two designated people there that were watching. But, it’ll be no fun if it’s the adults—” 

“You mean the Sheriff won’t let you drink, and you’re hoping I will?” 

Alec claps his hands together excitedly and points at him with both index fingers pressed together, “Yes, exactly!”

It’s honestly a little endearing how happy and excited the kid gets over the smallest things like being fucking understood. Heartbreaking for sure, but also endearing, and one of the many reasons he hates when Alec asks for anything. It feels a tad too much like looking in a mirror that shows him a world of could bes, would bes, and what ifs. 

“Not a chance, Alec,” he answers after accidentally leaving the kid hanging in silence for a few beats too long.

“Theo, please. I’m begging you. Like, actually begging. See?” Then the little shit actually gets down on his knees, his kneecaps knocking against the floor.

 “Please, please, please .” 

All Theo does is shake his head and turn away, focusing back on his computer and actual work. In doing so, he hopes if he looks like he’s busy that Alec will drop it. Hopes. It’s a longshot, but at the moment it’s all he’s got. 

Saying no didn’t work, so avoidance and ignoring is his only option. The last thing he wants after working is to spend a night looking after drunk people, especially in the preserve. The place isn’t technically haunted, but as far as he’s concerned, it might as well be. Too much blood has been spilled on that ground for it to not want more. He’s not about to let himself get put in charge of keeping that from happening with his track record. 

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” he huffs, resolutely not looking back at the teen. 

If he’s also ignoring the very high possibility of Liam being there too, then he can’t use it as a reason as to why he’s absolutely not going to be. Nope. He hadn’t even thought about that potential occurrence, and if he hadn’t thought about it then he can’t factor it into his decisions. 

“Theo, please. I’m literally begging you on my knees. What else do you want from me?!”  

A litany of pleading starts pouring out of Alec at mach speeds without any sign of stopping. The kid is stubborn, much like him. Up till now, it’s seemed to work in both their favors more often than not, but at present Theo is feeling like there’s a distinct imbalance to the whole equation. 

If he doesn’t give, there’s no telling just how long this will carry on. While it’s somewhat feasible to ignore Alec until he gets bored or realizes that the tactic isn’t working as planned, he’s not particularly in the mood for it.

He groans and hangs his head, one hand running through his hair briefly, before he leans more onto the counter, bracing himself for the mere thought of acquiescing. 

 While there are definitely worse things than playing babysitter, it’s still not an appealing thing. Lydia’s not likely to be a problem, but he can only imagine the shenanigans and shitshow the bonfire will turn into with Scott and Stiles both there and inebriated. Mason and Corey aren’t usually problematic unless they both get to the point where they decide to utilize the chameleon’s invisibility while forgetting that alcohol makes his control spotty. It’s happened more times than he cares to count, but maybe he can foist that particular job onto whoever is the second designated babysitter.

“I get to pick anything?”

The string of pleases cuts out in an instant while Alec scrambles to his feet and nods, limbs flailing about in that distinctive teenage werewolf way Theo can’t help but chuckle at. 

“Yes. Anything. You name it.” 

Theo would be lying out of his ass if he says he’s not intrigued by the offer at the very least. It’s not as if Alec doesn’t know exactly what he’s getting into offering him a carte blanche like that. He’s younger, yes, but not an idiot. 

“A favor down the road, and a veto card for anything I want in the future. One event I get to say absolutely fuck no to.” 

“Deal,” Alec replies too quickly for him to even consider adding more terms or backing out.

Theo glances around at his surroundings as he walks toward the bonfire, the sun already beginning to set beyond the horizon. He’s dragging his feet and trailing behind, very evidently not wanting to be there. Alec, Brett, and Lori are in front of him, the excitement radiating off of them in palpable waves. 

He’d driven them here and parked with the rest of the cars, and couldn't help but notice that the Jeep and motorbike of Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber were nowhere to be seen. It’s all too likely that both vehicles were used to transport whatever supplies that they wanted to bring into the woods, as stupid as that was considering that getting it all out later was going to be a genuine pain in the ass.

Time has done what it can, healing bits and pieces of what he tore to shreds and scarring over most of what it can’t. He has a place within the pack, more or less thanks to Derek foisting the auto shop onto him and Alec sticking onto him with the same fervor of a baby duckling imprinting on its parent. It’s more than he ever expected. Hell, that his presence doesn’t automatically spark the same vitriolic arguments that it had is more than he deserves.

The spot, picked out by Stiles and Scott of all people, is deep in the preserve, far from hiking trails or where any passerby could hear them. Supposedly it’s for the safety of the whole thing, keeping them all out of sight in case anyone makes poor decisions. The logic is, admittedly, sound, and Theo would agree if it were any other forest and any other group of people, but the farther in they are also means the farther they are from help if anything goes wrong. 

“That’s why you’re here,” is Alec’s reply as he slings his arm over Theo’s shoulders. 

It’s a familiar move between them, though not one he typically lets slide outside the house. Alec uses the leverage to all but pull him along as they all trudge deeper still into the woods. He simply huffs and rolls his eyes, begrudgingly allowing it for now. One of these days he’ll just bite the shit out of him when the little shithead pulls this stunt. One day, but not tonight. There’s too much going on and he’s not about to be the one that starts all the problems rolling.  

“I’m less of a deterrent, and more an attractant, squirt,” he says after a minute or so, shrugging off the arm that keeps awkwardly jerking him around every which way as if Alec’s already drunk, despite his having been glued to the young Alpha’s side the last two hours and not having seen him touch a drop.

“You’re just saying that so we’ll let you run back home,” Lori counters, turning around to walk backwards while throwing him a distinctly cutting and knowing look. 

“No,” he says quickly, too quickly if the eyebrow raise he gets in return means anything. “It’s a fact. Most times when I’m present, shit goes wrong.”

Predictably, the three wolves in front of them groan grumpily with various degrees of loudness, all of them stopping and then turning around. Part of him vaguely wonders how intentional the synchronicity is. In the silence he can hear the low rumble of voices not too far off. Now that he’s paying attention, he can smell the smoke too. 

“One night,” Alec says, holding up a singular finger. “Relax and pretend you’re human for one night. ” 

And with that, the youngest of the three-wide line ahead of him lurches towards him and gets a hold of his hand. The dragging commences again, Lori and Alec both trying to encourage him into dropping some of the stalwart prude act. They go back and forth saying he’s enough of a hard ass on a day to day basis, he can stand to relax just as much as the rest of them. He stops paying attention after the third or fourth volley they’re throwing over his head, one posted up on either side of him, as if that could really stop him if he decided to duck out and disappear. 

Sooner than he thought, they were standing at the edge of the clearing, a raging bonfire thirty or so feet away, and tables lined with various alcohols already set up. Thankfully there’s a good distance between them, so he’s not immediately launching into a more defensive and protective mode right off the bat.

“The whole point of me being here is watching over you guys,” he points out as Lori disentangles from him, leaving him under Alec’s scrutinizing gaze. “Getting drunk doesn’t–” 

“We said human , not drunk. Important distinction.” 

He resorts to grumping and grumbling under his breath because he’s, unfortunately, right. There is a difference between the two. That doesn’t stop him from crossing one arm over his chest, the other hand firmly in his pocket, and stepping over to a nearby tree. More specifically, he slides into the shadowed part of it, all but disappearing. When he doesn’t respond to the sigh and glower, Alec continues on, ignoring that he’s actively trying not to be seen.

“Humans don’t drink wolfsbane alcohol,” he starts with, as if that’s not a plain as day statement in the realm of the sky is blue and water is wet. “Stiles and Lydia warn Mason every single time he asks them for the ratios for different strains.” 

“So what, you want me to drink without getting drunk and… what? Pretend to be normal?” 

“Yes, exactly!” 

And there’s that same giddiness and general excitement at being understood again. 

It slams into him like a sledgehammer, not quite driving the air out of his lungs like it used to, but it’s a near enough thing that he recoils into the dark of the tree a little more. He hopes that it can keep the wince from being too noticeable and that the sharpness of the fresh cedar scent will cover whatever blip of his own slipped out. 

Seemingly between blinks, Lori is back, but not only that, she is thrusting a cup at him in such a way that leaves him no choice but to grab it, lest he want to be covered in whatever the concoction is. Given that Stiles is the one predominantly in charge of this cabal, he’s entirely sure that there’s so much sugar in it that his teeth would be rotting from skin contact alone. Theo glances between the kid and around him at Stiles, because of course that’s who Alec went to for this, and the aforementioned cup now resting in his hand. 

“But it’s not going to do anything. My metabolism is similar enough to yours that it just won’t–”

“I know. That’s the point , just like you said. You’re here for safety, so no getting drunk drunk, but the mind is powerful. So just, try.” 

Lori comes back over as Alec finishes his spiel, a cup already in her hand as well. He rolls his eyes at them, but doesn't say anything. He’s here to make sure it doesn’t all get out of hand, not be the total killjoy version of the fun police.

“If you think it and believe it, some part of your brain will make it happen.” 

“I’m gonna need you to stop quoting fortune cookies at me.”

“But it makes him sound so much smarter.” 

“Oh shut up, Lori.” and “Bite me.” are said almost entirely in sync, which is far more violent than he has ever known either of them to be with one another.

He rolls his eyes yet again, wondering vaguely if they’ll get stuck like that eventually, which gets far more chuckles than it should. Rather than chase down the offenders, who are already off starting to mingle with the others, he opts to just hover for a bit. A good portion of his job tonight is just watching, so sitting at the very edge of this whole insane thing and scouring the rim of clearing while pretending to nurse the drink in his hand seems par for the course.

That’s all there is to his decision. Yup, he’s totally just making sure he knows the terrain just in case he’s got to go running after someone. Preparation and knowledge will make his later duties far easier to accomplish. Putting himself as far from the center of the festivities as possible has nothing to do with Liam being there already. 

Nope. Not one bit.

While he’s there, he starts checking once more for any threats. There’s nothing to find, but habit says that one day there might be, and that’s reason enough for him to keep doing it. It’s absolutely not a cop out way of avoiding whatever has people starting to get loud beside the fire pit.

No, he’s just got a job to do and things like trust riding on it. That’s all.

Theo has lost count of just how many times he’s walked the tiny ass perimeter he’s designated for this, and with that how many times he’s leaned into this particular tree. It gives him the best vantage point while protecting his six. No one can get behind him if there is no behind him for them to be in while he watches, eyes skipping periodically from group to group, counting heads and ticking off boxes along the lists he’s made throughout the night. 

Whether Melissa and Stilinski know exactly what they’ve agreed to is yet to be seen, but it's going better than he thought it would, all things considered. Kids and alcohol will do stupid things. It’s one of those universal rules that he’s seen time and again. Supernatural kids and alcohol will do even dumber things because they know it can’t hurt them is another rule he has seen his fair share of. 

After years of this, he figures the older pack would be better at managing their intake. And yet, the worst of the bunch is between the two initial idiot best friends and the fucking duckling of a wolf he can’t get rid of. But then again, it’s not like this bunch is known for being too good at learning from their mistakes unless it well and truly bites them in the ass, and even then its got be a gnarly bite to do much.

No matter what Alec or Lori say, he's absolutely not being a mother hen. No, he’s sitting a respectable few dozen feet away from anyone, watching the party and listening to their surroundings in equal measure. Deep as they are in the preserve, it pays to be on one’s toes at all times. This place didn’t seem to like anyone much, let alone a pack that was being stupid and having a bonfire in California woods in the midst of summer .

“Tee, c’mon. I asked you to relax. This-” the tipsy werewolf gestures at all him of him with a swoosh and flick of his hand, “is brooding, not relaxing.”

Alec is once again flinging himself at Theo, hanging off of him much like a leech that hasn’t been pulled off yet. The whole image is mildly entertaining, so he doesn’t outright throw the little bastard off. Yes, the shithead is getting all up in his space, and while normally that means he’s about to draw blood and take a pound of retaliatory flesh, Theo doesn’t immediately shove him off. He should, but he doesn’t. 

Part of his groans and growls as he thinks that he might have gone soft somewhere along the line. Yes, part of it is also that he knows the kid is just wired to want touch, has been since the day they met, but still. It wasn’t all that long ago, relatively, that he nearly tore Mason and Brett’s heads off about something not overly dissimilar. Honestly, though, he’s just grateful that it’s the casual wolfen brand of physical touch. He can handle platonic, familial types of touches okay only because of Alec. If it were any shitty, roid-headed Alpha version of it that Theo’s been fighting off since he was way too young to know it existed, he would have shut it down at the start.

He settles into it for a moment, letting heat seep from the werewolf ease part of the night’s chill nipping at him while scanning the clearing, mentally double-checking where everyone is and how drunkenly they're moving. So far, thankfully, they’re all okay, much to his surprise. Nothing normal ever really happens in this town, so a moment of peace is absolutely welcomed. He knows better than to say that out loud though, or think it even louder than he already has. Fate is fickle, and luck likes to turn on a dime around him.

Eventually, tired of the half coherent rambling and weight on his shoulders, he starts trying to shrug off the gremlin-like growth. At first all he gets are mumbled protests, and then Alec stirs enough to grump at him and groan.

“Go play with your alpha, Alec, not me.” 

He shrugs again, and jumps to just add that extra jostle, and finally gets the teenager to lift his head up and off his shoulder. There’s a bit more grumping and huffing as he manages to fully shove a tipsy Alec off of him, mainly because the wolf doesn’t want to leave. But once he’s no longer perched on Theo, it’s easier to walk away rather than keep pushing. 

That doesn’t stop grumpy grumbles being tossed back over the kid’s shoulder as he goes.  

As he leans back against the tree, he can’t help but smile but smile and shake his head, both far fonder and softer than he means for them to be. The kid would find his way back to the fray of people eventually and attach himself to the other Alpha that both of them live with, likely in much of the same manner he just had with Theo. He almost felt bad for him. Almost. The idea of it just furthers the smile growing on his face as he counts the group of idiots again.

Three of them are firmly in the drunk category, five if he included his little wolfy duckling who is already on his way there. There’s at least a dozen fire hazards, but everyone is present, accounted for, and as of yet relatively uninjured. He takes the chance and pulls out his phone once his animals resign themselves once again to there not being anything worth caring about. First he  checks the time, making sure it’s been no more than an hour or two since his last text update. Nodding, he quickly sends a response to Melissa’s text about Alec, firmly ignoring the part where she asks if he’s having fun too.

That’s not why he’s here. 

Another round of whooping exclamations snaps his head up. The volume echoing around the clearing makes him wince and chuckle simultaneously. Stiles has never been accused of being quiet, but fuck he’s now of the loudest drunks Theo has ever met. It’s on brand, at least, if not a little comical. Briefly, he wonders if the guy ever let loose like this around anyone that wasn’t here, if any of them can relax if it’s not in these semi-haunted woods surrounded by people who have stared down death more times put together than even a soldier on active duty does.

He plays with his phone in his hand for a moment and then sighs. He’s already flipped through all his messages, leaving his notification center remaining as glaringly empty as ever. Once again, he’s bored, wondering why he’s even here. He grumps at himself yet again that she should have just told Alec no, as impossible of a task that is for him.

He can’t dip out because unfortunately all three of his roommates are present and intoxicated to varying degrees, not to mention he’s not quite sure Liam would manage wrangling the rest of the idiots on his own. If he leaves, he’s abandoning them all to the wolf’s care, which isn’t that bad except that he’s one person against a lot of them, so he‘s stuck feeling oddly responsible for it all. 

A loud pop from the fire pulls his focus, but it’s only one of the logs added to the base catching fully. With his attention already shifted, he glances over the fire, skimming the now slow moving groups.

Finding Liam is easy. Always has been for him. It’s not the sort of thing he wants to linger on, the whole idea too close to a few too many stories for his own comfort, but it’s true. Every time he scans the mess of people, his focus lands on the mop of golden hair on instinct. It’s a talent and a detriment.

Liam looks over almost as if he could feel Theo’s eyes on him and there’s a moment as their eyes meet where Theo’s caught between looking away or smiling. For all the lack of talking, they’re still pack. It’d be polite, but would it be too much? Has the gesture been warranted? Give and take. Push and pull. It's the story of their lives, written into the very base core of what they were. 

Keyword, were . Past tense.

His eyes drop down to the ground between his feet, trying to hide how his eyes pinch and the pleasant look on his face falters. It’s only for the barest fractions of a second, but once upon a time, they knew each other well enough that the wolf would have caught it. That in and of itself renews the ache behind his ribs. Being known has always been a dangerous thing in his previous line of work, but somehow Liam used to. Now, he’s not so sure if the wolf could identify all the tics and tells anymore, or where they stand either. Those infuriating blue eyes used to be the closest thing he’s ever had to an anchor, the beta they belong to the only bedrock he ever felt comfortable enough to lean on. 

But that was three years ago.

Objectively, it’s not that long. There’s a lot of things that don’t even blink at that short span of time. Trees for one. Rocks for another. Three years to them is a blink, but it’s a long time in the span of human action. People change. It’s one of the very first things that the idiot sitting at his side taught him. People change and they can become new creatures that don't care about the things that they used to.

He doesn't know who makes the first move, but one of them eventually does. Maybe one of them doesn't or maybe they both move at the same time. He doesn't give it much thought, though, focusing too much on keeping his breathing even and not all wonky as they stand side by side.

“Didn’t think anyone could out loud Stiles,” Liam offers as a starting point, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

This close, he can see what the last three years have done for the wolf physically. The lingering babyness of his face is gone, the line of his cheeks and jaw sharpened. He looks good. More than good, actually. With the glow of the bonfire dancing over his face, Liam looks fucking ethereal. 

It takes him a second to realize that he hasn’t said anything as a reply yet, and that he absolutely should. 

“Yeah, Alec is, uh… special ,” he says, an awkward chuckle following as he plays with his cup of normal, non-spiked alcohol.

An unfortunate thread of silence stretches between them, getting thicker and heavier by the wasted second. Theo can’t help but kick himself for causing it with his delayed response. His nose wrinkles, a low sort of groan trying to climb up his throat. 

Didn’t he used to complain that shutting Liam up for more than ten seconds would be a fucking miracle? He knows he did, he remembers the sting of his broken nose as he chuckled and watched the wolf storm off after. 

It shouldn’t be so easy for something as simple as talking to become so goddamn hard. It’s one of the few things he’s truly good at, but right now he’s wishing for a hail of bullets, or even just a singular well-placed bullet, just so long as it takes him out and makes this whole small talk thing non-existent. 

“He’s, uh, adjusted well, given everything. There’s a lot of ways that whole shit show could’ve gone, but he’s doing good.” Theo’s eyes flick back to where he last saw Alec, a relieved breath slipping easily from his lungs as he nods. “He’s doing really good.” 

“You were part of that. Who would have thought the Chimera of Death would turn into a werewolf zen garden?” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he groans as he sits on the log behind them.  

To his surprise, Liam follows suit almost immediately, stepping back and sitting down. His breath catches in his throat and he has to blink repeatedly, double-checking how real this is. The image never changes though. Just like that, as if it really is a simple thing, Liam’s sitting next to him, only a foot between them. 

“Okay, maybe not, but you’ve gotta admit, you’re kinda like a weird werewolf catnip for the out of control teenagers.” 

Now it’s apparently Theo’s turn to pull a confused face. It’s the loudest thing running through his head because he doesn't understand any of what Liam just said. Not a singular word in the order he’s put them in. Theo being good for other people’s control is an oxymoronic statement all on its own. He sows chaos, not calm. 

Clearly that isn’t the reaction Liam is looking for as he stares back, only minorly less confused. There’s a few blinks, as though he’s trying to right some fallen notion or rule about the world, but eventually the Alpha starts talking again. 

“First the chimeras, then me, and now Alec.” Liam flashes him a smile that’s all too bright and warm, too similar to the soft ones he gave Theo before leaving. “You’ve got a track record for ‘rehabbing’ the most problematic of us.”

He lets out a little huff that sends Liam's eyes straight back to the ground and replies, “You’re giving me too much credit.” 

“Nah. Pretty sure you’re the one underselling here.” 

are just watching the rest of the pack in a soft silence that’s far lighter than Theo would have thought it could be. It's not quite how it used to feel, but then again, maybe that’s down to the distinct lack of wolfsbane-coated bullets flying at them and the easy scent of contentment radiating throughout the clearing.

Of course it’s in the singular moment he’s not paying attention to him that Alec comes up and manages to sling himself across Theo’s back, again. The kid reeks of alcohol now, and judging by the way he’s scenting him in an odd mix of conscious and unconscious instincts, he’s absolutely hammered . Thankfully, he’s used to the gremlin of a werewolf by now, familiar with his touch enough that he doesn’t flinch at it or snap his hands off. The kid’s far more affectionate than anyone else he’s around, but he needs it, so he’s learned to let it happen. And it has the added benefit of keeping most creeps from trying anything. 

As he looks back over at Liam, the wolf is staring back at the fire. There’s a distinctive edge to his cheek that says his jaw is working, muscles tight like he’s keeping something in. Despite the warm orangey glow from the flickering fire curling around his face, it’s a cold sort of expression. Theo’s brows furrow as he notes that the gap between them has grown again, back to the frustrating foot or so that feels more like a mile wide chasm. 

Some little nagging thing in Theo says to ask what’s wrong, to poke and prod and dig, because evidently there is something bugging the guy. A blind man could see it. But he doesn’t. The little voice in his head whispering that he’s likely the problem wins out over the rest. It’s his own voice, tinted with a derisive sneer, and it just keeps looping time after time, repeating that he’s causing more problems than he solves, rubbing salt and vinegar into old wounds. 

A barbed ball knocking around within the cage of his chest, ricocheting through him as the damn loop keeps on. The visceral curdling in his stomach and pain blossoming behind his ribs, centered around the stolen thing keeping him alive with every beat, has him recoiling, inadvertently tucking himself more into Alec. Again there’s a niggling little thing that says he’s hiding in the wrong person, yearning for the broader shoulders and more solid hold he knows Liam is capable of.  kicking himself for ever trying to close the gap. 

Before he can recover from it and shove the thoughts back, Liam is lifting himself up, back turned towards him.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll just go check on them,” is the only halfhearted mumble of an explanation he gets to the questions he can’t figure out how to ask. 

Theo doesn’t bother to follow where Liam’s thumb is pointing. Nor does he manage to say anything, his throat and mouth dry as the crackling logs in the fire, as blue eyes flick from him to the ground and then the ridge between his brows furrows. He so desperately wants to grab onto the hand dangling at Liam’s side, to pull him back around and push just like he used to, but with Alec still relatively all over him, he can’t. 

All he can do as he watches Liam walk away, again, is bite his fucking tongue. It’s no longer his place, anyway. They’re not friends anymore, that much is blatantly clearer than ever, but that doesn’t stop his heart from aching more and more with each step that crunches and cracks under the wolf’s feet.

Chapter Text

Once again, Theo jerks to a stop mid-aisle, biting back a growl as he narrowly avoids ramming the cart into whoever is in front of him. He doesn’t know which of the two wolves stopped, but he’s about to resort to homicide if it keeps happening. Or just leave sans saying a single word to the two. It’s the normal weekly grocery run. They can handle it just fine on their own. There’s as much reason for him to be present as there is to have three wolves all go together. Two Alpha’s can handle a little shopping on their damn own. 

The fluorescent lighting keeps making him wince and squint, not to mention the buzzing. Thankfully it’s pitch is just high enough that he can tolerate it, but overall Theo’s reminded why he really hates doing this. His head is already half-way to a migraine from the too bright and fake lighting, even without the chatter of people all around, and he’s been in the damn store for five minutes at most. 

 He’s learned to tune his two roommates' voices out to a degree solely due to living with them. Yes, he could tune them out relatively okay, and does most days, but he still needs to pay attention to the rest of the store. They’re not at home in the safety of walls he knows are protected by tried and true sigils. His instincts and training won’t let him not listen, especially with how involved the others are in their petty squabbles over which brand or flavor of this and that to get. No one but him knows to keep half an ear on everything around them, or has the mental bandwidth to attempt it.

He really tries to focus on pushing the cart, but with the inconsistent starts and stops that are progressively making him more annoyed, Alec’s seemingly random choices are grating at his last nerve. The cart is a quarter full and none of it is shit they keep in the house. Not a single thing.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he growls after yet another stop, not even five feet after the previous.

Alec freezes mid-putting a bag into the cart and he glances between Theo and the thing in his hand. “Shopping?”

The perfectly innocuous answer and pull of the kid’s shoulders to his ears as Theo growls has him releasing a long, heavy breath through his gritted teeth. He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to temper whatever sharp, too-hot words were resting on his tongue, ready about to come out at a moment’s notice. Annoyed or not, Alec doesn’t deserve all of his ire. Not this time, anyway.

Gesturing at the cart, he keeps his voice mostly level as he says, “None of us eat this shit.”

He’s not prepared for the fast-paced mess of words that launches out of the younger’s mouth. It amounts to way too much information about the pack as a whole’s eating habits. The key points he takes away are that he and Malia tend to share one kind of candy, while she will bite anyone else’s hand off if they try, that Corey has an affinity for hot Cheetos and regularly kills bags by himself, let alone if Mason and Scott eat some too, and that Lydia will glare them all into an early grave if there isn’t some form of sparkling water present. It’s more attention to detail than he ever figured anyone but him would give to the people around him, and all entirely accurate to what he’s picked up on too, aside from the sharing between him and Malia. That’s one he hadn’t noticed yet but is definitely going to watch for.

Theo shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at the young Alpha. “But why are we buying it all? Half those people are never at the fucking house.”

Before the wide-eyed wolf can answer him, Brett unceremoniously pushes between them, setting something down in the cart. It’s annoying and rude in ways that the taller never is, and compounds onto how Brett does so without so much as a word or glance at either of them. It’s out of character enough that Theo is stuck simply staring at the taller of the two Alpha’s with his jaw hanging slightly open and brows ever so slowly pulling into a tight, crinkled mess. 

As if sensing the unstated question, Brett tosses him an entirely unhelpful answer over his shoulder while he turns back around towards the shelves he had just been at. 

“Because we’re hosting a movie night tonight.”

The casual delivery sets him bristling more than the notion of something being sprung on him. His hands curl into fists that he promptly buries in his jacket pockets, just in case he breaks the skin without noticing. It doesn’t happen often, but he’s not about to draw attention to them like that. The town has already shown once just how quickly it can turn on people, and he’s not interested in adding more fuel to that particular fire.

A movie night is usually a casual thing, a quiet, calm sort of evening consisting of the household clustered on the main couch passing bowls of popcorn up and down the length of it, which Theo is always the one to fill up.  It’s mostly just the four of them, though Malia is added when she’s in town, and sometimes Mason and Corey if there’s time when they pass through during break. 

When he manages to make both hands slightly less furiously tight, he finally processes the words Brett said. His jaw snaps shut to keep from doing anything overtly nonhuman towards his roommates. It takes him another few slow breaths through his nose to calm himself enough to say words rather than simply growl and gnash his teeth at the two men.

“And when were you gonna tell me?”

There’s a split second as Brett flashes a smarmy grin that is too pretty and nerve-eating all at once that he regrets asking. He recognizes that stupid mischievous look, it’s sharp in all the wrong ways that he just knows are going to bite him in the ass. It’s all too common of a look among the idiotic pack he’s unfortunately more or less attached to now. 

“I just did,” Brett says, that irksome and infuriating grin still in place.

All he can do is growl low in his chest and sneer at the taller wolf. Not for the first time today, Theo wishes he could punch that look right off of Brett’s face without incurring a few dozen odd looks and a call to Stilinski. He settles for pushing the cart down the aisle with his forearms and completely ignores the sounds of his roommates behind him. The discontent snarling of both animals as they pace around in tight circles, gnashing at the inside of his head at the thought of Liam coming into his space is plenty loud enough to cover them up anyhow.

Theo’s eyes skip over to the tallest head in the room, one of the few still standing. With all the unusual scents wafting around the room, he can’t say for sure, but the alpha is remembering more than thinking. There’s a certain way his eyes squint and his jaw tightens when it happens. He’s seen it enough over three years of living in this place to know it pretty well. He shouldn’t still be surprised that this house is overflowing with reminders of before, back when it used to be home to a pack far larger than Scott’s. Now, it houses as many ghosts for the last Ito wolves as the town at large does for him. 

A rock sinks in his stomach, pulling a somewhat wince across Theo’s face as it goes. The particular instance that cemented the taller’s rise to power wasn’t his fault directly. Guilt squirms around in his chest nonetheless. Tucked in his pockets where none of the people around him can see, his hands twitch and clench. Those deaths weren’t his fault in the least, but plenty of others had been. Brett’s loss isn’t his fault. He knows that, but he also knows he certainly didn’t help matters back then. 

A voice he barely recognizes pulls Theo’s attention across the room. He hasn’t seen most of the people crowding into the room this much in a long time. First the barbeque, then the bonfire, and now this. It’s equally odd as it is comforting. So much of the pack has moved around, filtering out of the hell hole that is their collective home town for self preservation as much as out of a sense of duty towards fixing the shit show that happened during the end of their highschool careers, it’s a rare thing to have them all home simultaneously. 

It’s a testament to just how spacious the communal gathering spaces are that there even is still space at all. There’s so many more people in the house right now, and yet it doesn’t feel cramped. It’s almost nice, truth be told. Some lounge peacefully on the floor, a few are seated like normal people, and others still are sprawled out, all but draping themselves over their neighbors despite the space still available.  

He shrinks back into the chair, hoping no one is paying enough attention to him to notice. Why would they? He’s in the same seat he always sits in, far enough removed from most of the shenanigans that he’s never the first pulled in and has a clean escape if he needs it. There’s also the additional boon that no one can get near him without him seeing them coming, which settles the survivalist tendencies screaming at him whenever he’s in a room this packed. 

Many people means many targets and just as many threats if something goes sideways. Maybe one day it won’t. That’s the hope, anyway. When he started thinking that way, he’s not sure, but it was definitely somewhere between the many forced Disney movies night with the Talbot siblings, acquiring his own far more awkward and less endearing version of a little brother, and having an actual home to really plant roots in rather than the four walls of his truck. That’s beside the point, though. That it happened at all is shocking, whether he can pinpoint what did it or mean for it to happen. Or maybe he did. He’s not sure, doubts if he ever will be. 

He’s surveilling more than participating, but that’s about normal. Watching is what Theo is generally more comfortable with, what he knows how to do. On the plus side, if he’s on the lookout and watching everyone interacting, cataloguing it all, he’s not obligated to participate as much. 

It’s in the midst of that, with some sort of nerd movie on in the background, when the werecoyote positions herself close enough for him to reach out to if he wanted to. One eyebrow raises while she settles herself upon the arm of what amounts to Theo’s designated chair. It’s big enough for two, but he claims it for himself every time. Alec occasionally tries to squeeze onto it with him, though he tends to literally kick the kid onto the floor. He’s not entirely sure why she’s posted up on the thing, more perched than seated, until he catches himself snagging a couple of Malia’s sour gummy worms. His nose scrunches when he realizes what he just did, and how correct Alec was about it. 

 He goes as far as to chuckle at the menacing snarl she gives Alec when he tries to do the same thing. It’s followed by a predictable growling huff that makes him smile a little wider, half hiding it behind his hand. 

Why he looks over at Liam, smile still on his face, isn’t something he consciously wants to distract. He rationalizes that the wolf moved, probably reaching for something to drink or munch on and that movement drew his attention. That’s what he tells himself. 

But that doesn’t explain why he doesn’t look away. 

Polite rules of society say he should. Most people would have. But Theo, he doesn’t, or rather can’t. Can’t is definitely a more apt word. His eyes won’t move except to track Liam as he settles back into his seat on the floor, back pressed into Scott’s legs. It seems safe enough only because blue eyes are firmly locked on the screen. He’s quieter than he used to be, calmer. It’s strange that the wild person he used to know that was a flurry of movement, always doing something or other, can now sit placidly on the opposite side of the room. The fire’s not gone but it’s certainly been tempered, focused. 

After that, he’s a little more focused on the kid, noticing how he essentially spins himself around on the couch beside Brett to the point that he is entirely upside down, head hanging off the seat and legs hooked over the back. It’s rather comical truth be told. Part of him considers pulling out his phone and getting a photo of him, but that would likely only start the youngest grumbling louder. 

It proves to be a moot point when he hears a familiar groan and sigh. 

“Can we do something, please? I’m dying over here. Like physically, actually, dying from boredom.”

Before Theo can open his mouth and retort by pointing out the impossibility of that fact, Stiles was already snorting. This ought to be good. 

“Shut up, runt,” is quickly snapped out with a particular sort of venom. “This is a classic.”

“If classic means boring, then yes. One hundred thousand percent. It’s a classic.”

Without looking past the coyote poised at his side and the young wolf next to him, he can hear the glaring. Both Stiles and Alec would be Olympic level candidates if glaring was a sport. He does anyway, trying to assess beyond the rapid heartbeat how close the human is to actually tearing out Alec’s throat. Judging by the way Stiles’ brows are furrowed and tightly pulled together, it’s a little more than most days. Theo’s ready to jump in and to say something to diffuse the conversation when Lydia lays a hand over her partner’s knee. The audible snap of the guy’s jaw closing is a little funny, mostly because Theo can only imagine the way it jarred all his teeth.

“It couldn’t hurt to play something while we let it play, right?” she says, the corners of her mouth turning up. 

Something in Theo’s stomach drops. 

The pain in the ass human of the pack is a force of chaos all on his own, but when he ropes her into it, or vice versa, then Theo is decidedly not in for a good night. Their mischief with its too sharp edge is contagious, and he just knows nothing good is going to come his way from it. 

That’s made all the more apparent in how Alec scrambles off the couch, almost face planting in the coffee table in the process when his unwieldy teenage limbs flail all around. He misses the edge by fractions of an inch. The chorus of laughs that wells up in the aftermath drowns out grumping protests and smothers out all the sudden concern tightening Theo’s throat, though Alec doesn’t do more than flip them all off, already half way out of the room and officially too focused on whatever he’s doing to be distracted. That alone should be enough to motivate Theo into motion, but he’s all too aware that moving means his seat very well may not be unoccupied when he comes back. 

It’s not purposeful, not in the least, but he ends up looking straight at Liam. He figured that sitting as physically far from him that he could would be enough to deter any of this shit. Yet, at the same time, he knows for a fact the wolf hasn’t so much as looked over at him the whole night. Paying attention is not only his strong suit, what he does best and is typically applauded for, but he doesn’t know how to turn it off either. 

He keeps watching blue eyes skate across the room, how they jump from person to person as quick as his own do. They’re bright, something curious and attentive in them. On anyone else, he might think the blue was sharp, but not Liam. The smile he’s wearing is too gentle for that. 

Part of Theo is curious what the years have done to the kid he used to know. If he winces the tiniest bit behind the hand he brings up to hide half his face under the guise of scratching his nose, no one notices. The simple fact of life that no one likes to acknowledge is how innate and unstoppable entropy is. Time affects things indiscriminately in a never ending way no matter how much he wishes it wouldn’t. It erodes cliffs and grows forests and maybe even changes the little golden wolf he never stopped being surprised by. 

There’s a part of him that balks at the notion, his animals somewhat snarling in tandem at it too, because Liam Dunbar was one hell of a person before leaving Beacon Hills, the kind that didn’t need to change since he was already so good and kind and steadfastly refused to do anything less than the right thing. He doesn’t want to picture a world where that changes. Consciously he knows it can because anything can happen, but he is sinking further into the chair while hoping and wishing it hasn’t. Too many things about the idiotic excuse of a wolf were too good and warm for him to change.  

Theo shakes his head, hard, trying to throw all the things rattling in his head to a stop. None of it is helpful.  He has to focus if he wants answers. Hell, this might be one of the few chances he gets with how little Liam comes home. 

Brows pulled tight and his mouth moving without any real sound coming out, Liam looks as confused as Theo feels. He can’t help but chuckle internally, only barely letting his shoulders shake. Somehow, even grown up as he is now, the wide blue eyes and near gaping mouth are reminiscent of a fucking fish going blub, blub, blub under the water. He wishes for a second that it was more like one of the deep ocean fish that just don’t look right out of the water. Much to his chagrin, however, the little bastard is like a stupidly adorable little puffer fish at the aquarium Alec makes him go to all too regularly. 

As if the gremlin heard a cue, Alec slides into the room. It’s likely entirely unintentional, which is solidified when he again nearly acquaints his face with the coffee table as his momentum falters. Limbs go flailing every which way in what Theo has to admit is a rather comical display of the worst reflexes he has even seen on a werewolf or an Alpha.

Before anyone can get a word out, Alec rises enough to brandish the orange colored box he somehow didn’t send flying in his chaotic entrance. The way he smiles, all eyes and looking all too much like a puppy, is all too innocent. Theo is already preparing to dart for the nearest door when excited brown eyes pin him down, sinking a rock in Theo’s gut. 

The innocence is indeed proven to be false when the younger wolf says, “You topple the tower, you down your whole drink.”

Hidden among the agreeing whoops and energized hollering from the people around him, Theo’s groan goes unnoticed. This is the sort of thing he avoids with a passion. Too many things can go wrong or land him with egg on his face. But there’s no way to extract himself, not without having to give some slipshod excuse that he has this niggling suspicion the two Alphas he lives with would ignore and tell him to just sit down and loosen up a little.

Against every intelligent bone in his body, which are all screaming to book it out of the room as fast as he can, Theo sinks into his chair. To be fair, this game isn’t the worst Alec could have picked.

The game is set up, played, set up again at least four times, each round getting louder as more alcohol is consumed. Once again Theo has taken on the role of most sober person in attendance, opting out of most of the games thanks to the maximum number of players and the sheer exuberance of the younger pack members. Somewhere along the line, shot glasses are brought out and liquor is set along the edge of the media console, in front of the TV so they’re close at hand but not in danger of being spilled. When that happened, he’s not sure as most sober inherently means he is less than fully functioning. 

A few glasses had been shoved into his hands with lingering smiles that just begged him to participate by a specific little blonde and her fellow gremlin that he just can’t refuse. He’s lost track of how long this whole event has gone on. All he can track at the moment is how loud the people around him are, how they are all bumping into one another and have forsaken the couches in favor of the floor, which means many of them are all but laying across the laps of those beside them. 

He rubs at his face, glancing at his half full cup and then to the people clustered not three feet away from him around the table. UNO, the drinking game edition had come out somewhere in his lapse of paying attention, and reinvigorated all of them despite both Stiles and Alec having been grumbling about bed not long ago, or were they saying they never needed sleep? Theo groans low in his throat, pinching his eyes shut and sets the cup down on the floor. It’s been ages since he’s drank much, and he’s quickly remembering why. The buzz at the base of his skull is anything but pleasant when he’s trying to stretch his senses and double check that everyone is accounted for and safe. 

No amount of forcing will punch through it, that much he knows for certain, and yet still he tries. He searches through the scents for something grounding, nose wrinkling violently at the stink of sweat mixing with alcohol and wolfsbane. Sounds are equally unhelpful, voices overlapping to the point that he can’t untangle them. Touch isn’t much better, though he does manage to get his own scent back under control, reeling it in and settling it down at a low simmer; only the base bits of his natural scent seeping out rather than the full force of his chemosignals. It isn’t much, but at least it’s something. 

Another cacophony of laughter and shouting rises up, burying every other sound with a force that stabs into his skull. Theo hisses as he flings himself up, one hand digging the heel of his palm into the side of his head, hoping the pressure will alleviate the pulsing throb that’s suddenly taken root there.

“You okay?”

His eyes snap open, darting around briefly before landing on Alec at his feet with a hand hovering just above Theo’s calf. Worry creases the younger’s forehead and has his lips starting to turn down at the corners. In a half-hearted effort to erase both, Theo nods, ignoring how his head briefly pulses again.

“Fine. Just tired,” he answers, waving the hand not pressed to his temple at the group. “Figured I’d just head up and knock out.”

Alec’s eyes drop to the floor and he just knows, even without seeing the kid’s face that he’s pouting. Ready to snap something out and walk away regardless of the bugger’s begging, he’s thrown off when the beta simply nods. Stubbornness is a trait they both share, one Alec enjoys using like a fucking sledgehammer to pull Theo into doing whatever the kid wants to do. The easy fold has him narrowing his eyes, curious and more than a little distrustful. Sue him, he’s dealt with the pits of humanity, leopards don’t change their spots and Alec doesn’t let him out of shit like this without an ulterior demand. 

“Sit down, idiot,” Malia all but growls at him. 

Before he can say anything or keep walking away, a hand grabs onto his elbow and yanks. There’s enough force to it that in his surprise Theo tips sideways and topples to the ground. He’s spluttering wordlessly as he fights against gravity to sit up, limbs flailing just a tad, though he blames the alcohol for that particular lack of grace. 

“Okay, boys and girls,” Stiles exclaims, clapping his hands together, the sound thankfully muted with how far off center they are. “Time for the good stuff .”

  That alone is enough to have Theo reconsidering whether the wrath of a werecoyote and the gremlin were worth whatever fresh hell is about to drop out of the pest of a human’s mouth. 

“Put up your fingers, and off we go!” A wild crackle spills out as Stiles falls back to the floor in a heap, somehow more graceful than Theo had been when Malia dragged him down, despite the spastic and truly flailing limbs. “Never have I ever run naked through the woods.” 

His focus snaps around the room, catching the obvious couple fingers, almost chuckling as Liam groans, “Seriously?” but drinks and lowers a finger. Malia simply nods, drops a finger and drinks without any fanfare. Theo takes his drink in much the same manner, quietly while hoping no one is paying him much attention. There’s a pause of silence that takes over the room that sets his hackles on edge, snapping his more defensive snarl onto his face, before he realizes all eyes are on Scott who only has nine fingers standing and a dark shade of red flushing his cheeks.

“What? When?” Stiles splutters, nearly tipping himself sideways as he scrambles in shock.

“College,” is all that’s said and clearly all that will be said when the two quasi-siblings share a long look that ends with the drunker of them throwing his wild hands in the air and sinking back to his previous spot, a distinct pout taking over his features. 

“Who goes next?” asks Alec while vibrating out of his skin enough that Theo can feel it even with the inches between them.

There’s a new pause, each person considering the question. Several half mumbled things are thrown around, but ultimately it’s decided that the most surprising answer gets the metaphorical talking stick. Theo smiles a little and shakes his head when the collective herd of cats nearly derails entirely at the thought of finding an actual talking stick. 

A warmth spreads under his skin while voices carry on around him. It's oddly settled for all its newness, and maybe even more odd is the fact that he doesn’t react to it beyond looking down at his hands. One finger pinched into his palm, he turns them over and just stares at his own skin. There aren’t any visible scars, no marks or blemishes or anything to speak of what things they have seen, what variety of awful things he’s done with them. His eyes slide over to Liam, unintentionally catching on the features that aren’t what he expected, the things that have changed since the wolf left. 

Theo’s smile changes as he looks and then keeps looking, something heavier settling over his face. Beneath the new is still the same kid, all heart and good intentions, and fuck , he can’t help but be drawn to it, magnetized by the way he smiles with every ounce of himself. Wanting is nothing new; he’s lived with it all his life as an Omega. It’s the reminder that he knows who he wants but also that he can’t have him that changes the flavor of his smile, but doesn’t diminish the warmth still thriving under his skin. He owes a lot to the blond idiot of an Alpha; the kinds of things that make the tattered remnants locked in the safety of his ribs ache and yearn, and that’s never going to change regardless of how they each have. His hands snap into matching fists as the things in his chest squirm and slice through scabbed over old wounds, but that’s the only outward sign of the sudden war with his emotions.

For now, in the warm yellow light of his friend’s living room and all the warm colors spread around it, he can’t see the ledger of red beneath the human looking coating. And besides, he isn’t here for himself. 

“Have you ever had a crush on anyone in the room?”

Theo’s head snaps up, thoughts stilling and senses snapping back out into the room so fast he’s a tad dizzy. None of it shows though, his face unchanging save the raise of his eyebrows in a silent question. He glances around, checking if anyone saw the minute reaction. Thankfully, all eyes are on Liam. He also absently notes that no one is bothering to hold up fingers anymore.

Liam’s huff and tight shoulders have a kernel of worry sizzling in a pan of hot oil, waiting to pop into a flurry of motion if the bright blue eyes next to him shift to gold. 

The clipped, “Yes,” isn’t what he expected. And clearly the rest of them hadn’t either, because there’s an explosion of noise around them. 

Voices rise up, growing louder as everyone shouts over one another, pestering him about who, stating that in the spirit of the question and the game he has to elaborate. Everything on the Alpha’s face says he wants nothing more than to pretend he hadn’t said anything at all and move on. Theo, though, he can’t help but be curious. Maybe not now, but once upon a time, he could’ve sworn he saw something in how Liam looked at him. And with that little bit of light shining blindingly bright in the dark tunnel he’s sealed himself off in is a poisonous tendril of hope. 

"Brett."

Again the room roars around him, and Theo is grateful for it. The distraction offers him a singular second to let his heart break upon itself, the pain fleetingly whipping across his face before he wipes it away. 

“I knew it!”

Alec’s growl is loud, rippling through Theo’s chest. There’s a depth to it that has him rolling his head with a groan and reaching over, flicking the kid on the forehead.

“Calm down.”

Theo’s quick to pull Alec into his side, arm hooked around the younger’s shoulders to keep the easily-distractible kid tucked into him. Alphas are territorial by nature, but since he hasn't properly made his intentions known, Alec doesn't have much ground to stand on regarding the taller wolf. It would be different if he had, or if anyone aside from Theo knew he was interested, but as the two stand, acting out would be a step too stupid. 

If the movement of the younger wolf into his torso doubles as a distraction to how his own chest is aching from that momentary bit of whiplash, well nobody would know the difference.

“Truth or dare, Stiles.”

“Hmm.” His nose crinkles and eyes narrow as he ponders another few seconds, tentatively saying, “Truth, runt.”

“Just because you’re taller, doesn’t make me a runt,” Liam huffs, glaring directly at Stiles as if that will make any difference in how the pack’s resident pest treats him. “What’s a secret you haven’t told anyone in this room?”

Color runs out of Stiles’ face faster than Theo can blink, and it’s all too satisfying. Everyone forgets how sharp of a mind Liam has. It probably has something to do with having a literal genius in the pack and people like Mason and Corey who tend to do most of their thinking before leaping into a problem, but that doesn’t make the beta wolf any less competent. 

“I dented the door of Derek’s camaro with a pole and never said anything.”

A round of oohs and ahhs sounds out around the room, along with quite a bit of clapping and a couple people generally losing their minds with laughter. Even Theo winced a little, all too well aware of just how protective the werewolf is of his cars. He’s seen the dedication and care that man applies to each and every vehicle, the near reverence he has for them. The awkwardly paused situationship won't save him from that particular set of consequences. All of that culminates in the fact that he will absolutely maim Stiles when he finds out. And it is a when, because this pack can’t keep secrets worth shit . 

Apparently in his musing, Theo’s missed something because multiple eyes are on him next time he blinks. He squirms in his suddenly too tight skin, which manifests as a barely there shift in posture. 

“Yes?” he asks, eyes bouncing from person to person, trying to figure out who talked to him last.

The grin as Stiles then says, “Truth or dare?” is truly terrifying. 

He doesn’t want to answer at all. There’s no way to control what the overly insightful idiot is about to ask, and based on his girlfriend’s question to Liam, he’s less than enthused about the prospect of Stiles turning that all too smart for anyone’s good brain on him. 

“Truth,” he reluctantly says, arms crossed like a shield in front of his chest, for all the pitiful good it will do him.

“Have you had a dream about anyone in the room?”

Air sticks in his throat again, refusing to budge as if it were a solid thing rather than a gas. Or is that his whole chest is frozen and stuck under the weight of every eye in the room? Maybe both. All he knows is that he can’t fucking breathe and his defenses are fucking down.

Slowly he realizes there’s a roar, dull but present in the air around him. Theo looks around, frantically hoping his lungs will let something in if he can tell himself not everyone is looking at him. Some of the pack are arguing over the verbiage, what it means and how that’s not fair ground, others giggling to each other. He’s not really listening, though. There’s too much running at lightspeed through his head, all of it messy and snarling and screaming and panic . 

After a shaky breath in, he slams down cork in the proverbial bottle, shoves his scent into it and leaves his pulse beating along in that hypermechanical in the way that he learned to keep it steady and even. He’s hoping against hope and sending quick meaningless prayers to things he doesn’t believe in, that his body cooperates as he stands and that it keeps cooperating long enough for him to walk his ass out of the room. 

Step by step he makes his way out. He doesn’t look back or try to listen to anything behind him. There’s already too much in his head and his limbs are heavy from the stupid fucking spiked drinks. This is one time where paying attention, seeing the littlest details about a situation are more hurtful than not paying attention at all.

Steam rises off of the dishes from the hot water splashing all over them, filling Theo’s nose as he inhales. It doesn’t faze him in the least. Even if he wasn’t single-mindedly trying to only focus on the feel of plates in his hands and the task set out before him, it wouldn’t bother him. It’s more of a ticklish sort of discomfort than true pain to him, ranking less than half a point. Honestly, he wishes it had a little more bite to it. Then at least it would be easier to focus on it over the muttering he’s catching bits and pieces of from the other room. 

The more he hears, the more he scrubs and scrubs, trying to create additional noise if the physical sensations won’t create enough. It’s blatantly obvious what they’re all doing now, and he refuses to play this damn game. His hand shakes, grip on the ceramic white-knuckle hard. Not again. A low growl builds in his throat as he shifts onto the next plate, fighting against the urge to just slam one down and break it. That would only bring the idiots running and let them throw the barrage of things swimming around them at him. 

“What’s the deal with you and him?”

Theo’s teeth grind audibly as his jaw tightens, screwing itself all the more shut. Fully ignoring him is impossible, but he’s not about to start willingly laying everything out on a silver platter for the kid simply because he asks. This isn’t something he, or anyone, needs to know. It’s his business, and his business alone. 

Instead of dwelling on the way his guts keep knotting themselves up in a tangled mess, he places the plate in his hands down on the rack and goes for another, picking it up gingerly, mindful of just how much strength he’s putting into each movement. He’s been bitten in the ass a few times too many when things are far more fragile than they appear to not have learned that lesson by now.

The last thing Theo wants to do is talk , especially about this. He’s spent the last two years doing his best to forget about Liam and the plethora of almosts and could have beens. There’s nothing left to tell of their story, if it even counts as a theirs still. If he wanted to say anything, he would, and Alec knows that. So why is the little idiot pushing?

“Okay, the silent treatment thing, that’s just screaming that something did happen between you two, because the only time you ignore me like this is when I’m like half pressing on a nerve.”

“Then that should tell you something, huh?” He resists the urge to snap his too sharp feeling teeth at the kid, but only barely. “Like, I don’t know, back off .”

“No,” Alec snaps back, the timbre of his voice a sharp reminder that the kid is an Alpha. “Because I also know you’re dumb, and he’s clearly part of the pack, but you act like he’s the fucking plague.”

“It’s nothing.”

There’s a beat where the kitchen is stilent other than the tap running and the dish Theo’s scrubbing clinking against the metal. He dares to hope that his sharp dismissal is enough to deter further prodding. It’s a stupid hope because the kid is nearly as stubborn as he is while being half as observant. Maybe if he taught Alec how to really read faces the brat would know to just drop the damn subject, that the story really wasn’t all that interesting or leading to where he so clearly thought it was.

“A whole lot of nothing, enough to make it something.”

His lip starts curling up of its own accord. “Alec–”

“Theo, come on, just–”

“It’s nothing because it’s done, alright ?!” The last growled out word lingers in the air, hanging like a neon sign pointing at and broadcasting the hurt-tinted fury rolling through him.

He twists away from Alec, grimacing at himself, and braces on the counter that’s mercifully within reach. It’s the only solid thing around him, the floor unsteady beneath his feet, though the could have been wishful thinking seeing as he’s wishing it would simply swallow him up and let him avoid this whole conversation. Head hanging off his shoulders, he curls into himself, as if that can summon a shield thick enough to protect him. His stomach churns as his chest aches, something locked tight behind the boney bars wriggling and stabbing itself on his own thorns. Pain and hurt, that’s all he’s really good at. 

Beneath the barely there veneer of personhood is his bristling wolf and coyote, neither pleased with the protective and defensive stance he’s chosen. It leaves too much of him exposed to things he can’t see, . Meanwhile, he’s fighting the urge to let go of the counter and turn back towards Alec. It’s beyond frustrating how easily his body betrays him and does things he doesn’t want it to. Biologically, it’s what he’s supposed to do. Omegas are sweet, soft things that cow and bow and go along. That’s what he’s supposed to be, according to how they made him, but it’s not who he is, not naturally at least.

“Maybe there was a chance of something a long time ago, but it’s fucking done. He and I are–” Theo inhales roughly, trying to will away the prickle behind his eyes by grabbing onto the counter’s lip even harder. Letting the sharp under edge dig into his skin. “There’s no fixing it. No sweet little song, or pretty words, or magic moment to fix it all or rewind time.”

He’s shaking as he stands at the sink, hoping against hope that he can keep himself tacked together at the seams for just a little longer. Staring down at the mess of dishes he was doing, he notices that his vision is slowly going blurry, and the prickle of meldsome tears is painful now.

Warmth spreads over his shoulder from what he's assuming is a hand. Theo flinches out of instinct, despite knowing who is touching him. His jaw is clenched all the tighter for it, same as his hands which are both still white-knuckled around the counter’s lip. If this place hadn’t been built by wolves for wolves, he might be in danger of breaking it, but the material doesn’t protest in the slightest as he tries to grip it even harder. 

Supposedly, being part of a pack makes people stronger, but fuck, he didn’t used to be weak like this. Not until he met an idiot with blue eyes and a heart that was three sizes too big for his body. 

“Theo–”

“What happened, happened, and that’s that,” he snaps, ripping his shoulder out from Alec’s hand, the touch suddenly too heavy.

Another snarl pulls his lips up, carving deep lines along his face before he abruptly jerks away from the sink. Momentum carries him through the kitchen and memory makes sure he doesn’t run into anything on his way out with how thoroughly screwed shut his eyes are. No way in hell is he daring to open them with anyone else around. He already knows what’ll happen, and he’s not about to stomach through all the pity and coddling and too soft voices. 

No, that’s the opposite of what he wants right now. 

So he walks — storms — out of the room and up the stairs to his own without another word. He can’t be near anyone right now. Everything is just too much, threatening to drown him or bury him alive. Normally he doesn’t care. He lives with their scents and the sounds of their pulses assuring him that all three are alive and safe, but as he’s being reminded how much he used to care about another person, how similarly he used to depend on him, it’s just too much.

Theo doesn’t open his eyes the entire way. Even as he gets to his door, his lids are shut tight in his utmost attempt to hold back the torrent of emotions swirling through him. 

There’s only so much he can do, though. He’s not used to these damn things, even less so when they’re this strong, crashing into him like tidal waves and cracking through him like lightning. He collapses into the door as he shuts it, using the sturdiness to hold himself on his feet. It’s all he can do. Focusing on one thing at a time, an achievable physical thing, that’s how he handles this, how he’s always done it. 

Biting back the furious and sad things building in his throat isn’t easy. They’ve got claws and are climbing up whether he wants them to or not, gouging bloodied tracks all along his insides. But he’s determined not to let them out, to not be heard or seen. He’s better than this, stronger than it. Grief and loss aren’t things he’s used to. He’s lost plenty, but he hadn’t cared about any of it.

Liam is different, though. He always has been.

Theo grinds his forehead into the wood as he shakes his head. A wet chuckle manages to slip out. That’s an understatement if he’s ever heard one. Liam is… Yeah, different really is the only way he can think to describe him. 

Slowly, inch by fucking inch, he turns, pressing his back into the door rather than his forearms and forehead. Part of him wants to sink down to the floor and just stay there, barring entry to anyone and everyone by his sheer weight against the door. It’d be the easiest route. All he has to do is let his knees go and he’ll crumple in a messy little pile. 

What’s easy is rarely the right thing, a voice in the back of his head says. 

Theo’s eyes slide over to the desk he rarely uses. It’s only there because it had been in the room when he moved in and didn’t have any inclination to get rid of it. There is plenty of space even with it, and to be honest it gives the place a sense of home, whether he used the damn thing for homework or not. One of the drawers catches his eye, drawing his focus back to it repeatedly as that same voice echoes its phrase on repeat. 

The more he stands against the door, unmoving, the louder the voice gets until his eyes refuse to jump away anymore. With a reluctant groan, he closes his eyes and moves to the desk. There’s no rhyme or reason why, not that he can consciously figure out at least, but he goes. Step by step, he crosses the room.

He jerks to a stop at the desk’s side and unceremoniously rips open the little drawer. When he blinks down at the contents, he suddenly realizes which drawer he opened and freezes on the spot, one hand still on the little pull knob and the other bracing against the wall. The tears he fought off at the door renew their prickling press at the backs of his eyes. 

Staring back at him is a little moon carving half the size of his palm, colors playing in the low light that it somehow catches as his hand shakes. He releases the knob and skims his fingertips over the cool stone. Air stutters out of his lungs, his throat closing tight all at once, trapping it in as his body is trying to expel it. His hand closes around it, edges biting into his palm reminding him of how heavy the darn thing. Sure, the moon fits in his palm, but he’s shaking under the weight of it and everything attached to it.

Half of him wants to just throw it at the nearest wall as hard as he can, see if it’ll shatter and become even more of a manifestation of the non-relationship it’s a token of. A cheap knock off like him should still be able to generate the kind of force necessary It’d be vindicating if nothing else to stare at the shards of it scattered every which way like the splintered pieces of the organ beating behind the barred cage of his ribs were laid out at his feet years ago. What good does a trinket like this do him? 

Another part, the one that has clung onto it this long, recoils from the thought of destroying it. His hand slackens around it, not enough to drop it, but suddenly afraid that in his own hurt he might break it. The corners of his eyes prickle and burn under the pressure of tears gathering there. He wrinkles his nose and shuts his eyes, tucking his chin into his chest for good measure, looking away from the stone and his hands and everything. 

Lead weights or cinder blocks tied to his feet pull him under all the faster, dragging him down, down, down . His legs give out under the pressure, already far too close to buckling to survive much. He lands in a chair with a heavy thud that pushes a singular broken sound from his lungs. He’s sure he knew it was there, or if he was about to just fall to the floor, but he’s momentarily glad for it. 

Tears roll down in unbidden waves. For once he doesn’t try and wipe them away with the same vicious prejudice he typically does. There’s not a single soul near him, so he doesn’t care if they exist. They’re not costing him anything except his own pride with himself, not that he has much of that anyway. 

Theo leans into the desk, elbows digging into the wood. Or is it the other way around, since he’s the living thing that’s clearly prone to breaking and giving in? As his whole torso shakes with another shuddering exhale, he looks at it in his hand. It’s stupid, reacting this much to such a simple thing. 

Running his thumb along the edge of it, he can’t help but think just how fitting it is as a token of what he and Liam can’t be. It’s roughly carved which naturally makes it look dented and unfinished, as if the person got tired of working on it partway through and decided it was good enough as is to skip ahead to the last step. Three years ago, when he took it from Liam’s shaking hand, he thought about it differently, briefly considering it to be a hopeful thing. 

His hand tightens around the keychain, the sharper edges digging into his palm painfully. Gift giving is a specific language with Alphas, fraught with meaning and traditions even the most socially inept know. Liam knew what he was doing. He knew what something like that would mean, and he still fucking had the gall to say that Theo was free to do what he wanted, to live and take care of himself in the process, while giving it.

It should have meant something, but it didn’t. Pain in the ass biology and his stupid, idiotic fucking animals than can’t agree on anything else be damned, it still doesn’t.  

He throws down the charm with a vicious snarl. It clatters and spins around the desktop loud enough that as he lurches out of the chair and to his feet, scrambling to get them underneath himself, the thing’s rattling isn’t buried. Tears burn his eyes and cheeks as they fall down his cheeks entirely unbidden, recarving tracks he has spent the last few years filling in and paving over. Liam left, and that was fine. Hell, Theo even told him to after the whiplash of the Alpha’s combined speech and gift wore off, though he knows now that was more out of a need to hurt others because he was hurting.

Well, is hurting, judging by the howling of both animals in his head. They’re so loud and fucking in sync that each painful note makes his legs shake. They claw at his ribs, yearning for a fiery touch they can’t have and a scent he wishes he could forget, hoping to get him to do something. Ignoring them is a bitch and a half and leaves his insides feeling like he’s taken sandpaper to every inch of them, but it’s nothing new. Theo’s more than used to the wanting and needing; it’s just part of his life thanks to biology. 

As he falls to his knees by his bed, tripping over something or other, his arms catch on his mattress at the elbow, nearly forcing his hands into his face. For a brief second he’s frozen in shock and blinking away the tears that are stubbornly still falling down his face, and then he smiles. 

It’s a wide thing, almost broken looking and manic, which is only furthered by how he laughs and shakes his head, dropping it a few inches to grind his forehead into his thumbs. There’s an irony at work here, one he can’t help but find utterly hilarious as he thinks, Me, of all people. He who doesn’t believe in anything enough to even beg properly, let alone ask for guidance or peace or any of the other things people say they ask their divinities for, now looks like he’s doing those exact things.

He only wants one thing, for his body and supernatural side to get the memo that he and Liam are never going to happen.